


Party for St. Paddy's Day

by SheeWolf85



Series: Dancetale Reader Fics [2]
Category: Dancetale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol and swears, Dancetale, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is gender nonspecific, Sans is a li'l shit, St. Patrick's Day, dance battle, reader is too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 19:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheeWolf85/pseuds/SheeWolf85
Summary: You've been invited to a party put on by monsters for Saint Patrick's Day. You're excited to go, but get concerned when Sans decides not to show.  You take it on yourself to find out what's wrong with your friend.





	Party for St. Paddy's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Skelebros X Reader, Platonic  
> Gender: Nonspecific, Asexual  
> Rating: Strong T for language and some sexual references  
> Warnings: None, really…language is probably the only one. Alcohol use? It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, of course there’s alcohol and swears, c’mon. Sans is a bit OOC character here; I don’t think Tale Sans would swear or make these kinds of sexual jokes, but y’know…St. Paddy’s Day, guys.

“Pinch me one more fuckin’ time, and I’ll blast your ass.”

You snickered, a blush rushing to your face as you realized how…unintentional that insinuation was.

“That sounded strangely sexual. Are you sure you’re not attracted to me?”  You batted your eyes at the skeleton and watched with fascination as his eye sockets widened and his mouth dropped open.

You had known the skeleton and his brother for a little over six months.  You knew you were friends and, although he was strangely cute, you would never be anything more than friends.   He didn’t seem to be interested in anyone—yourself included—and you sure as hell weren’t interested in pursuing any kind of relationship.  As an asexual person, relationships just didn’t hold the appeal that society thought they should. 

That didn’t mean you couldn’t joke with him as often as he joked with you, though.

He recovered quickly and raised a brow bone, his eyelids closing halfway to give you a sensual stare.  “Maybe I am,” he said with a breathy voice. “You’ve got that certain quality about that you that makes you completely and utterly…” he paused for a moment, letting out a soft moan “… _insufferable_.”  He winked at you before laughing.

You laughed with him and reached out to pinch his ulna.  “You should have thought about that before you came out here without putting anything green on.”  He was wearing his customary blue hoodie, white t-shirt, and black shorts.  He wasn’t wearing his slippers this time, though; instead, his feet were bare.

He groaned and smacked your hand away from his arm.  In an instant, he was gone.  You sighed and laughed to yourself as you went back to your TV show.

Although you weren’t a die-hard St. Paddy’s Day fan, you made sure you wore something green every single year.  At the moment, you wore a green t-shirt with a leprechaun on the front holding a pot of golden dicks.  Your bottom half was covered in black sweats, and you had your favorite sneakers on your feet.

Sans and his brother had moved onto your street shortly after the barrier was broken.  You were lucky enough to get to know them and their ambassador fairly quickly.  You had heard about monsters being trapped underground, but you never really believed it until one day they were everywhere.  You were fascinated by the idea and fully supported their integration into your society.

The thing that really surprised you, however, was their penchant for dancing.  They would use anything at all as a reason to dance.  It was they fought and how they communicated things that went beyond a simple conversation.  You found it captivating to watch them as they danced.

Some monsters were more private about their dancing than others.  Some, like the king and queen and their ambassador, seemed to love it when people watched them.  Others, like Sans, refused to dance when anyone at all was watching.  You’d never once seen Sans dance.  His brother, on the other hand, was a Latin dancing extraordinaire and wanted everyone to know it.

You’d dabbled in dance a little when you were younger.  You didn’t really know any professional techniques, but you enjoyed a good beat every now and then.

A sharp knock at the door caught your attention.  You got up and went to answer it.

Papyrus stood there with his customary grin on his face.  He wore a mint green dress shirt with black slacks and a tie that had small four-leaf-clovers all over it.

“Hello, Human!” he greeted, using his nickname for anyone of the human race.  “I’ve come to invite you—was Sans here? I haven’t seen him all day.”

You snickered at his derailed train of thought.  He’d probably picked up on Sans’ residual magic from his teleportation.  “Yeah, he was here a bit ago.  He left probably fifteen minutes ago; he got fed up with me pinching him.”

Papyrus snickered, but then caught what was actually on your shirt.  His face turned into a scowl.  “You’ll need to change if you’re going to come to the party.  Do you have a less offensive shirt?”

You held out the bottom hem and looked down.  You were proud of this shirt; it got you all kinds of nasty looks in public.  “Probably not.”

The skeleton grunted.  “Come shopping with me, then.”

You took a step back.  “What party are we talking about?”

He grinned again, his short attention span brought back to the reason he’d come over to begin with.  “Yes, the party! Toriel is throwing a Saint Patrick’s Day party, and we’re inviting all of our friends.  She would be delighted if you came.  There will be dancing, of course.”

You figured that would probably be fun.  You’d get to meet more monsters, anyway.  They always seemed to be more accepting of you and your rebellious ways than most humans you met.

“Sure, we can go shopping.  Just know that I’m not going to be wearing anything that buttons up, and no ties or I’m not going.”  You folded your arms in front of your chest.  the last time you’d been shopping with Papyrus played in your memory.  It was an experience, that was for sure, but you didn’t want to hear him beg you to wear shit you knew you’d be uncomfortable in again.

He sighed.  “You’re so much like Sans sometimes.  Okay, no ties, and no button-ups.  I’ll let you choose the clothing as long as it’s something I wouldn’t find offensive in front of our queen.”

You figured that was a good compromise.  You nodded and went to grab your keys.

* * *

You had managed to find a shirt that would meet your standard of humor and yet be mostly appropriate to appear in public.  The shirt was dark grey with green writing on the front that said, “Shut up, liver; you’re fine”.  You were pretty sure Papyrus didn’t quite understand its meaning, otherwise he probably would have vetoed it. 

When you got home, you changed into your new shirt and a pair of jeans.  The party wasn’t going to start for a few hours, but Papyrus had asked you to go early with him to help set up.  You figured that would probably be more fun than sitting around watching lame TV shows like you had originally planned.

You let him drive since he knew where he was going.  And, if you were being honest with yourself, his Mercedes convertible was fucking cool.

You milled around the park where the party was being held, doing little things here and there and asking for odd jobs to keep yourself occupied.  You noticed Toriel and Frisk give you a strange look for your t-shirt, but neither of them complained or said anything about it.  They were honestly probably expecting something worse.

The moment the alcohol arrived, you decided to start indulging.  If ever there was a day to get drunk off your ass, it was today.  From that moment forward, you made sure you always had a beer or some form of alcohol in your hand.

Dancing started just as the sun started to get low in the sky.  You still hadn’t seen Sans anywhere, and you were starting to get a little concerned that you had actually pissed him off earlier.  If there was one thing you knew about the shorter skeleton, it was that he didn’t particularly like to be touched unless he was the one initiating.  You had pinched him probably ten times that morning.

You tried to brush it off and let yourself go and be happy, but then you saw Papyrus standing in a corner with a confused and hurt expression on his face.  You made your way over to him.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning against the wall.

“Sans isn’t coming,” he answered, sounding for all the world like he was going to start crying.

Your brow furrowed.  “Why not?”

Papyrus sucked in a breath and shrugged.  “He said something about not wanting to dance.  I told him that he didn’t have to, but he was insistent that he wasn’t going to come.”  He sighed and blinked hard a few times.  “I don’t understand why he insists on shutting himself out all the time.”

“Maybe you should ask Frisk to talk to him?” You knew the ambassador and the short skeleton had a special bond.

The taller skeleton shrugged.  “She’s so busy and already stressed out enough. She doesn’t need this on top of it all.”

You quirked your mouth.  “You want me to go talk to him?”  You didn’t want to pretend that you had any kind of bond with Sans, but you were his friend. 

Papyrus merely shrugged again.  “If you think it would do any good.  It probably won’t.”

“Is he at home?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded.  You were only a couple blocks away from home; you could easily walk.  “Okay.  Let everyone know I’ll be back, will ya?”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

You patted his shoulder and started walking toward home.

* * *

Your fist pounded against the door for the third time.  You weren’t going to give up.  You were already tipsy and walking the five blocks to your street had been more taxing than you had anticipated.  You wanted to sit the fuck down, dammit.

“Sans, I know you’re home,” you shouted. “Come on and just answer the door!”

You pounded again and rang the doorbell three times in a row.

Finally, the door swung open. 

“What in the motherfuck do you want, asshole?” Sans shouted at you.

You took a small step back, a little surprised at how loud he was.  His left eye burned blue, a sign you knew meant he was thoroughly pissed off.

“Dude, I came by to talk to you.  What’s going on?  Why aren’t you coming to the party?”

The blue in his eye socket dissipated, leaving him with the small, white eye lights you were used to.  He rolled them.

“My brother put you up to this didn’t he? Well, you shouldn’t’ve listened, because—”

“Sans, are you drunk?”

He swayed a little, and you had your answer.  The little shit had been drinking alone.  That shit wasn’t cool; if you knew anything about monsters, it was that they were social creatures.  Some preferred to be alone, but even then, drinking was not something they did without friends or partners.

“As a fucking skunk,” was his answer.

You pushed your way into the house and tried to catch him as he swayed.  He pushed your hands away and caught his own balance on the door before shutting it.

“Your brother actually told me that talking to you wouldn’t do any good. I’m the one that insisted I come by.  I thought Frisk would be a better person to send, but she’s busy.”

He huffed. “Yeah, she’s always busy.”

“Just come down to the park for an hour, dude.  Your brother was practically crying when he found out you weren’t coming.”

Sans met your eyes, and you could swear you saw something pass through his sockets.  Regret, maybe?  He sat down roughly on the couch and picked up a bottle of scotch.  He didn’t bother pouring any out into a glass; he chugged straight from the bottle.

You shook your head and went to sit next to him.  You waited for him to finish chugging before you took the bottle away.  You took a sip for yourself then put the cap on and set it back on the table.

“Talk to me, Sans.  What’s going on?”

“Nunya.”  He went to grab the bottle again, but you took it before he could reach it.  He glared at you, but you glared back.

“You’re a monster, Sans.  You’re not human.  You need to be around other monsters, and you know it.  Especially when they’re all partying and having a good time; you need to let yourself be a part of that.”

He reached for the bottle again, but you hid it behind you.

“Fuck you,” he grunted.  His eye started to glow, and you felt the bottle being pulled out of your hands.  “Give me the fucking scotch.”

That wasn’t fair.  You huffed and waited for him to stop drinking.  As soon as he put it down, you picked it up and chugged.  If he wasn’t going to go be with others of his kind, then he’d be stuck with you.  You’d get so fucking shitfaced that you’d have no choice but to crash on his couch.

“Hey, don’t drink it all.”

You didn’t stop.  You opened an eye and looked at him as you chugged.  Eventually, the burn got to you and you had to put it down.  Your breathing was heavy as you wiped your mouth.

“Was that full earlier today?” you asked.  It currently had less than half the bottle left.

He nodded.  “Yep.”

Damn.  Maybe your liver wasn’t going to be fine if you were going to try to keep up with him.  Oh, well.

You reached over and grabbed the TV remote, turning it onto a music channel you knew you both liked.

“Might as well have our own party,” you grunted.  You were really starting to feel it now.  Your head swam a little, but it didn’t deter you from standing up and swaying to the beat.

Sans watched you with a curious look on his face as you started to dance.  Well, you thought it was dancing, anyway.  His mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and you caught the sight of his toes tapping along with the music.

“C’mon, Sans.  Dance with me.”  You reached out to him, hoping he’d take your hands.

He didn’t.  Instead, his face flushed a light blue as he picked up the scotch and drank some more.

“I don’t dance anymore.”

“I call bullshit,” you muttered as you continued to move.  “I haven’t known you for long, Sans, but I know a lie when I see one.  You dance, just not with others.  I’d ask you why if I thought I’d get an answer.” 

You let your body go a little more as you felt the music pulsing around and through you.  You closed your eyes, letting the beat guide your movements.

You opened your eyes when you heard a strange sound.  Sans was leaning back on the couch cushions, laughing at you.

“You look like a dork,” he said with a soft grin.

You lifted your arms and popped your hips a few times, kicking and shuffling your feet as you did. 

“A sexy dork,” you responded.  “Come on, Sans.  I’m not gonna stop until you join me.”

He raised a brow bone.  “Or until you pass out.  You might think you’re coordinated right now, but you sure as fuck are not.”

That made you laugh.  “Whatever.  I’m having fun.  I wish you’d have fun, too.”  His feet were still bouncing to the beat.  You could see something in his eyes that looked like a desire to let his body go.  He wanted to dance.  He just wasn’t letting himself, for whatever reason.  “Are you worried about looking like a dork, too?”

He snorted.  “No.  You couldn’t handle my moves, dude.”

That made you laugh.  “I can handle a lot more than you think.”  You shuffled your way over to him and held out your hand again.  “If you’re so good, why don’t you come show me?  Or are you worried I’d dance circles around you?”

He glared at you for a second before he accepted the challenge.  He slapped his hand in yours and used it to hoist himself up off the couch.

“You asked for it,” he warned.

You grinned, hardly able to believe that you had actually convinced him to get up.

Without warning, he dropped down in a split only to smoothly slide his way back up to standing.  If you were being honest, you were a little impressed that he could do that while completely shitfaced.  He began shuffling his feet and moving his arms, bouncing to the beat and staring into your eyes as he did so.

You snorted at the look on his face.  He was actually challenging you to a dance battle.  You knew, in no uncertain terms, that he was going to disintegrate your ass, but you accepted anyway.

You went first, giving it your best shot and even trying a few handstands while you were at it.  Your stomach had a lot to say about that, but you swallowed enough to keep from puking.

Sans shook his head, clearly dismayed at your performance.

“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” he said, shoving your shoulder.  “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You fell back on the couch and watched as he danced.  It was the first time you’d ever seen him dance.  He moved fluidly, sliding and bouncing with ease.  He did a backflip that made your stomach turn just from the sight of it and landed easily on his feet.  He then jumped again, turning and landing on one hand.  His legs kicked outward and spun before he dropped down on a shoulder into a spin that made you feel a little dizzy.

If he was this good drunk off his ass, how good was he sober?

His dance ended with the song, and he flung himself down on the couch next to you.  He picked up the bottle and chugged again before holding it out to you.

Your stomach turned again.  You shook your head and realized immediately it was a horrible mistake.  You shot to your feet and ran for the bathroom.

You changed your mind and went to the kitchen.  It was closer.  You leaned over the sink just as your stomach heaved.  You hadn’t eaten much and most of what came up was liquid.  You barely caught sight of the bony hand reaching over you to turn on the faucet.  The rush of water startled you for a second before you heaved again.

Sans’ other hand was on your back, rubbing gently in small circles until you were finished.  As you stood up, he handed you a washcloth.  You took it gratefully and wiped your mouth before rinsing it out.  You took a handful of water to rinse your mouth out as well.

“Pretty sure I lost that battle,” you murmured.

Sans laughed.  “You got obliterated, dude.  If that was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

You nodded and leaned into his shoulder for support.  “I feel really sick.”

Sans patted your back before helping you back to the couch.  He changed the station to some lame comedy and turned the volume down before sitting next to you.

“Thank you for coming over,” he said softly.

You smiled.  “Think you can show your face at the party? It’s probably still going, right?”

“Yeah, it’ll be going until midnight, probably.  I guess I can go, if it’ll make Paps happy.”

“I might go home.”

Sans laughed.  “Nope, you’re coming with me.  We can wait until your stomach settles.  By the way, your shirt is a fucking lie.  Your liver will never be fine.”

You laughed with him, the statement somehow funnier than you thought it should be.

It took you a good half hour to feel stable enough to move without the urge to puke again.  Sans decided that you were in no shape to walk the five blocks back to the party—not to mention it would take forever, he said—so he teleported the two of you.

The sun had set, and the green lights you had helped to set up lit up the surrounding area.  It was pretty, you decided.

Papyrus shrieked happily as he came up and hugged Sans before turning his attention to you.

“I thought you decided to go home and sleep,” he shouted.  “It would be so like you.”

You huffed, a little indignant.  You had to admit, however, that it was true.  Instead of defending yourself, you just nodded.   

You managed to mingle a bit more throughout the night, but you didn’t pick up anything with alcohol in it.  Sans handed you a water, and you took it gratefully.  It didn’t surprise you that he chose not to dance, but he was there with a smile on his face, and that was what mattered.


End file.
